


save the world tonight, bring me back to life

by matchsticks_p (matchsticks)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Flirting, M/M, Sam/Bucky Week, multiple jokes at the expense of Swedish House Mafia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-27
Updated: 2015-07-27
Packaged: 2018-04-11 14:44:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4439825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/matchsticks/pseuds/matchsticks_p
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for a prompt that asked "could you please write an AU for winterfalcon of them meeting online or meeting at a party for the first time":<br/>Sam meets someone at the welcome home party actual Captain America throws for Bucky.</p>
            </blockquote>





	save the world tonight, bring me back to life

Sam only knows Colonel Rhodes as a passing acquaintance, more of a work colleague than a friend, so it comes as a surprise when he's invited to a private party being thrown by actual Captain America.

"I've heard that you're really into those comic books," Col. Rhodes says with a hint of a smirk when Sam asks why, and that's—well, that's embarrassing. 

"I also know you're a good man," he continues, ignoring Sam's blushing, "and I think those soldiers need some friends right now who can help them adjust to life in the 21st century."

So Sam shows up at actual Captain America's apartment with a bottle of wine at 8pm sharp, and he's overcome by a sense of surrealism when an incredibly competent-looking blonde woman ushers him inside like he's a long-time friend instead of a total stranger.

Two hours later, he's standing by himself in a corner, holding plastic cup of his own wine (note to self: make Steve buy wine glasses) and browsing through Steve's CD collection, cursing under his breath because absolutely nobody has taken this poor white boy in hand and guided him through the treacherous perils of modern music. 

Another man approaches behind him, holding a plastic cup of his own and wearing a cap jammed down real low even though they're indoors and it's dark, the last of the sunlight long gone and the apartment just lit up by candles for ambient mood lighting. He looks a bit scruffy, a bit worse for wear, but overall relaxed, and he's chuckling at something Sam has just muttered to himself about people who have Swedish House Mafia albums. Like seriously, who _owns_ a Swedish House Mafia CD? It's obscene.

"My name's James," the guy says, no clever opening lines or pretenses. He's holding his cup with his right hand and he doesn’t stick his left one out to shake, but his voice is warm and he steps closer, into what Sam would label 'personal space.' "Are you a friend of Steve's? I saw you chatting earlier."

"I'm Sam, and, uh, no, well, maybe yes now, but I just met him tonight. Colonel Rhodes invited me, it was kind of a last minute thing, I think he was trying to embarrass me because he heard I was kind of obsessed with the Captain America comic books when I was little," Sam replies, and wow, holy fuck, that is the least smooth thing he's ever said to a hot guy who comes up to introduce himself at a party, why did he say that? "Um, anyway, how about you? Steve invited you, then?"

James is smiling at him, not in a way that makes it feel like he's making fun of him but just kind of soft. He has a wide mouth, and the quirk up at the corners gentles it. "The party is for me, actually. It's a welcome home shindig and I'm the guest of honour."

"Oh!" Sam's head quickly replays what Col. Rhodes said about soldiers, plural, needing a friend. He reads the news. He knows Cap isn't the only one who's been recently defrosted. Repatriated. Come in from the cold. Whatever. Which means that James is—"oh."

James' smile dims somewhat when he realizes that Sam's put two and two together. He takes half a step back to give Sam more space, and Sam wracks his head for something to say before he loses him completely.

"Happy birthday?"

James laughs, a quick, sharp cough of a sound that sounds like it came more from surprise than from amusement.

"Oh god," Sam groans, slapping a palm over his face. "I meant welcome home. I was trying to think of the phrase, and I was thinking about parties in people's honour, and I got my wires crossed and oh wow, wine is not going to be enough to get me through this, I should've brought something stronger."

"It's okay," James says, and at least his voice has gone all warm again so Sam can tell he's into how much of an idiot Sam's making of himself. Probably a good thing, since Sam has a feeling that he's going to make a fool of himself around James pretty much constantly. He has that effect. "Do you want to start over? Hi, I'm James, my friends call me Bucky."

"Hi, I'm Sam. I hear this party's for you coming home. What can I do to give you a warm welcome?" It's forward, but Bucky is so ridiculously charming that Sam feels like he should step it up and lob the ball back into his court.

Bucky smiles and steps back in close again, closer than last time. "Do you still want something stronger than wine? I know there's a bottle of tequila in the kitchen collecting dust, we can go check it out."

Sam is vaguely aware that everybody else is milling around the main living room and dining room. There's nobody else in the kitchen right now. "Yeah, hang on, let me just get rid of this," he says, swishing the last of the wine around the bottom of the cup. He doesn't want to drink it but he doesn't want to just put it down on Steve's furniture. He flips through the CDs again and finds the most offensive Swedish House Mafia album (seriously, who owns _more than one _?), pulls it out and sets it on a coffee table. He puts his cup on top of it like it's a coaster, then says, "Okay, lead the way, show me your tequila."__

__Bucky slides an arm around his waist, not so low that it's forward but definitely not high enough to be just friendly, and navigates him past the crowd of people that's collected in Steve's place. Sam realizes with a start that that arm is not made of flesh, but after his initial surprise he relaxes into it, lets himself be steered. Bucky catches Steve's eye across the room, where he's talking to a stunning redhead, and signals with his head that he's taking Sam to the kitchen. Steve, the loser, flashes them a double thumbs up._ _

__"Oh my god, he sent you over to talk to me. This was a set-up," Sam says._ _

__"Nah," Bucky replies, "I saw you talking to him and I asked about you. He just said you were nice." The kitchen just has a swinging bar door, but the way Bucky lets it swing shut behind him gives the impression of the space being closed off for just the two of them. "And he's right. You're pretty nice."_ _

__Sam hops up backwards to sit on a countertop. His elbow knocks over a pepper grinder. He laughs at himself. "I give up," he says helplessly, "You'll just have to take my word for it when I say I'm usually a lot more suave than this."_ _

__Bucky steps between his knees into the V of his legs. "You're plenty suave enough," he says, aiming to sound casual but now that they're away from the noise of the party, Sam can tell he's maybe also a little more nervous than he's letting on._ _

__Sam slides his hands up Bucky's arms, which are bracketing Sam's hips. He shivers when Sam stops at his elbows, loosely holding both his right one and the metal one. "Let me say it right finally," he says, leaning forward so their noses are almost touching. "Happy birthday."_ _

__Bucky laughs, more delighted this time, and as some of the tension drains out of him Sam murmurs "I mean welcome home" and leans in to kiss him._ _

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, and special thanks to the anon who sent me the prompt. Feedback warmly appreciated here or [on tumblr](http://riseagainphoenix.tumblr.com/post/125196478202/could-you-please-write-an-au-for-winterfalcon-of).


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